Treating Students with Cariño

Dear Teachers,

Last night, I held my 12-year-old daughter the way I did when she was 2, back when her fears were small enough to quiet with a hug. Then, she was afraid of a noisy toy. Now, she is afraid of the country she calls home. When she was 2, after long days of studying and working as a PhD student and doctoral instructor, I would pick her up from daycare and prepare her Mexican rice. One evening, she told me how much she liked it, and I reminded her it was because I had made it with love. She gently corrected me: “No, Mamá, it was made with cariño.”

Cariño carries a meaning that the English word care does not fully capture; it comes from the heart and conveys warmth, closeness, and tenderness. In her seminal work, Subtractive Schooling: U.S.–Mexican Youth and the Politics of Caring, Angela Valenzuela reminded us how essential it is to treat students with cariño or authentic care. Through authentic care, teachers recognize the cultural, linguistic, and community wealth students bring into the classroom, center their well-being, and build relationships grounded in trust and respect.

Even as a small child, my daughter understood that care meant endearment, something deeply felt and freely given. Today, as fear weighs more heavily on our immigrant children, educators must move beyond procedural or conditional notions of care. We must practice authentic care or cariño because this is precisely when our children need it most.

My daughter has seen the videos. We all have. Immigrants pulled from cars. Families separated. Children detained. She asks me if it could happen to us. And for the first time in her life, I cannot promise her that everything will be all right.

Our children are watching in real time as immigrant communities are targeted and terrorized. In January 2026 alone, two U.S. citizens, Renee Good and Alex Pretti, were shot and killed by federal officers. A 5-year-old child, Liam Conejo Ramos, was detained by ICE before being released after a traumatic ordeal. This summer, a Salvadoran man was arrested in Lansing, our neighboring town, during a traffic stop. These are not distant headlines. They are images circulating instantly on phones, replayed in group chats, absorbed in silence by children trying to understand whether they are safe.

How can immigrant children feel secure when fear is broadcast directly into their hands?

I am not only a mother. I am a teacher. I am a first-generation immigrant who arrived in this country 23 years ago with hope, for education, for opportunity, for stability. Today, that hope feels fragile. According to the Pew Research Center, nearly half of Latinos in the United States fear deportation for themselves or someone close to them and have altered their daily routines because of it. My family is among them. I now drive my daughter to and from school, though it is only two-tenths of a mile from our home. Fear has shortened even the smallest distances.

Schools are supposed to be places of refuge. Yet teachers, too, are living through overlapping crises, natural disasters, school shootings, political hostility, and now escalating violence against immigrant communities. As Alyssa Dunn writes in Teaching on Days After: Educating for Equity in the Wake of Injustice, we cannot separate teaching and learning from the socioemotional realities students and educators carry into classrooms each day. Trauma does not wait outside the school doors.

I teach future teachers. And I cannot honestly reassure them that their work will be protected from these political and social storms. But I tell them this: Immigrant children have a right to an education. Schools must remain spaces where children learn without fear of detention or deportation. Teachers must provide rigorous, affirming instruction that supports both language development and academic growth. And above all, educators must stand as advocates, our immigrant students’ first line of defense.

This is not only about policy. It is about childhood. It is about whether a 12-year-old girl and all other immigrant children can sleep without wondering if their family will be torn apart. It is about whether a 5-year-old’s first encounter with government authority will be trauma.

As a mother, I ask, urgently and without apology, for teachers, administrators, and staff in schools to join forces and provide much needed support to our immigrant children and families. 

We need policies that protect children and families. We need schools publicly reaffirmed as safe zones. At the beginning of 2026, Los Angeles Unified School District Superintendent Alberto M. Carvalho strengthened safety measures across the district by partnering with community organizations to provide families with resources and information, including Know Your Rights packets, transportation assistance, and access to virtual academies. 

We need community members, educators, and policymakers to speak clearly against violence and intimidation. In response to ICE raids, Los Angeles educators organized to advocate for immigrant families with the support from United Teachers Los Angeles (UTLA) by patrolling the streets and organizing aid efforts for immigrant families whose members were abducted by ICE or secluded at home and in need of groceries and other services. 

And we need to support our students who want to take action. In my local community, students at East Lansing High School organized a walkout protesting ICE. They have also coordinated food and clothing drives to support immigrant families affected by immigration enforcement. Silence will not calm our children’s fears. Action might. 

I held my daughter last night, and she asked if we would be OK. I want to be able to say yes and mean it. Our children are watching. What we do next will tell them who we are.

Con cariño, 

A first-generation immigrant mother, teacher, teacher educator, and community member.

---

Resources to Show Immigrant Children and Families Cariño

American Federation of Teachers. Standing United to Protect the Rights of Immigrant Students and Their Families. aft.org/our-community/immigration/standing-united/standing-united-protect-rights-immigrant-students-and

Colorín Colorado. 2018. How to Support Immigrant Students and Families: Strategies for Schools and Early Childhood Programs. colorincolorado.org/immigration/guide

National Education Association. March 10, 2022. How Educators Can Support Immigrant and Migrant Students. nea.org/nea-today/all-news-articles/how-educators-can-support-immigrant-and-migrant-students

National Immigration Law Center. May 29, 2025. Immigrant and Refugee Children: A Guide for Educators and School Support Staff. nilc.org/resources/immigrant-and-refugee-children-a-guide-for-educators-and-school-support-staff/